Perfect Circle
by Haroou
Summary: "We joined hands forming the perfect circle... I was naive to think it would last."


**Perfect Circle**

"We joined hands forming the perfect circle... I was naive to think it would last."

This... Is going to be a strage story...Disclaimer: I don't own anything. ^^;

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It was strange seeing everyone there. We, at the time, had no idea who we were, what we were, or why we were. It was like we suddenly all just appeared and joined hands- Forming the perfect circle.

It was wonderful! Everyone happy- Everyone laughing as we swung our interlocking arms, broad smiles on each and every one of our faces.

I was naive to think it would last.

Some of us, like in a violent storm, suddenly vanished; ripped away.

Empty holes filled our circle.

We hung on as best we could though no one made any move to fill the gaps. Our once conjoined hands dangled empty and useless in the air.

Some of those who vanished came back while others disappeared forever. The ones who returned made no mention to where they had been or who they had become. They simply retook their place in our home- In our circle, once more.

One day lines began to form around us. They were like ink splashed across a page- thick and black; all consuming.

At first we took no notice of the sudden appearance of the lines. No, in fact, many of us laughed at them thinking the strange patterns they formed to be amusing

We laughed until someone got _hurt_.

It all happened very rapidly- He stepped over one of the inky lines. The one who had been holding this trespassers' hand let go ...and punched him. New lines formed across this first person's struck face, only these lines were not black and not made of ink.

The person gasped as he let go of _his _remaining partner's hand to clutch his marred face. Both _his_ aggressive partner and _his_ non-aggressive partner looked down at their empty hands. What was happening?

After that day- Incidents like this happened a lot. In no time at all we all had bruised lines running down our faces; arms; legs; and even our hands! Which we still used, from time to time, to hold on to each other.

I noticed some people hurt each other more than others. Why? I wondered. Was it a natural hate?

I still didn't know the answer even after "_The Fight_" broke out. It was the worst one any of us had ever seen. Sure, we had grown use to our little cuts and scars but this fight was different. It hurt deeply both inside and out... but worst of all it was fought with things other than bare hands- human hands...

It was fought with _guns_.

The black lines seemed twice as thick and muddy as we ran over them in a panic. At first _we_ were beating each other up wildly with no concern to who it was at the end of our firearm, just so long as it wasn't ourselves.

We were driven apart, true, but amidst all that chaos… I still found people linking hands.

Some did out of want for more power while others did it out of desperation. I myself found my left hand glued to another's while his right hand fired shots into the crowd- Our crowd?

No, _their_ crowd.

I realized that even if some of us had joined hands it was useless unless we were _all_ joined together! One circle or none... So it goes… Or so I though... Maybe that was a ridiculous notion? Maybe we were never really meant to be together.

Some time passed and eventually the brutality stopped. "_The Fight_" was over so we returned- grasped hands once more. However, now the feeling of unity was hollow. Some of us no longer even toughed hands.

"_The Fight_" had truly left sad feelings in all our hearts. Such retched withering feelings that we thought there could be no occurrence sadder. We were wrong.

_He_ was one of the most beat up and crippled one of us. His entire body covered in slashes, scores, and bullet holes- I remembered seeing him earlier as proud and upright… Now I only saw him as a defeated, sad creature.

I think at this point we all were sad creatures, but none of us were sadder than _he_.

We began to suspect something when _he_ and others began to join hands again. Not the fake "I'm- holding-your-hand-because-you're-next-to-me way" we had, at some point, adopted. No, he did this in a more meaningful way- A more menacing way.

Again, I found my hand connected to another. I believed it to be the same one as before but then again who really knew.

Slowly more and more people joined _his_ hands and more and more people joined _our _hands. It seemed as if we formed two circles instead of one. A few people, the ones who remained neutral and did not join a side, were caught between our circle East and our circle West.

Those stragglers didn't use their hands for violence. They simply used them to distance themselves from us. I was envious. ..

At some point I noticed a new line burn down the length of our old ones. What was happening? It was at this point the pent up tension finally broke. We kicked our empty peace aside and began fighting once more.

I think we all realized this was just like _"The Fight_" and prayed that this round of conflicts would not turn out like before. Who would want more of that heart crushing sadness cleverly hidden beneath graves adored by poppies? No one! A-and… We got our wish.

This fighting was a thousand times worse.

The _others _ripped one of _our_ people in half! This horrified _us_ as _we_ attacked- with things far worse than guns...

_We_ fought and _they_ fought until I noticed the black lines that surrounded us had turned red. I wanted to cry out with dread!

I wondered if others noticed. The man closest to me didn't seem too until one of the _other_ side's people struck the fool.

The now bleeding man grew angry, stars and stripes glittering as he growled; However, instead of striking back, _he_ turned away- presumably to work on some sort of project. I would have though this odd but others were doing it as well… Even that first sad and beaten man…

_He_ still looked so sad!

I wondered if it was for the same reason as before… Surely it must not be; the bleeding bullet holes now replaced with strange spidery patches. All black and happy...Hidden jingoism cleverly camouflaged by a four-pronged man dancing.

I noticed one of _his_ hands was free...Where were _his_ Alies? Where was that big guy _he_ had been holding earlier? I looked around at _our _group. Oh yeah... the big guy was with _us_ now. Strange how that could happen ... But then again I suppose it is simple- Just a matter of letting go and crossing the liquid red border.

The fighting continued. Horrible as it was… At some point _I_ saved a man. I took his hand in mine and pulled him to safety- far away from the others. He was shaky and worn so I fed him. In return he gave me flowers... I don't know why but this made me smile. It was the only time I smiled.

The fighting almost ended when the original sad and broken man quit. _He_ was done- _We_ made sure of that. …

I b-began to question if both sides of the fighting had ever held hands together as one.

That doubt increased tenfold when the fighting actually ended... I finally saw what that project was from earlier… And it _horrified_ me.

During this fight, I had seen many things. Many things _I called_ death! B-but this was truly death- _"Death the destroyer of worlds."_

Death the destroyer of circles.

Finally the struggle stopped- There was no fighting death. So we returned to our circle once more, but this time no one. Not a soul, joined hands.

We stood there, pathetic and alone, surrounded by lines both red and black. I noticed a enormous one down the centre, had it always been there? Yes, I remember it now. It had simply grown bigger and discoloured. I knew what this monster of a line meant- _We_ were going to have another war… And for that I wept.

I tried to stay out of this one. Become one whose hands were meant, not to hurt, but to heal. Ultimately my healing words were feeble- They could only do so much.

Along with the continuous strain, everyone began to feel fear as a different kind of red swallowed the map. This was not like the first two fights. This was a non-fight but a fight none the less. A cold, heartless battle fought with _death_.

No, not just death… but iron as well.

The line down the middle of our carefully kept lines began to swell and form a fence- No hands could get through this fence. In fact not many hands could even get close… I was beginning to think this constant war and separation would never end. Though, I could hardly recall a time we never had it.

Those dreams I had, of togetherness, seemed so far away; however, maybe thinking of them as dreams was really the most naive thing all along.

You see... I seriously would have never considered it anything other than fantasy when, much to my surprise- Much to our surprise- The war ended. Death never came and that awful overpowering, iron wall came down.

I saw that first sad man again. He was crying but this time he seemed to cry just as much for happiness as he did for sorrow. Both his bullet holes and black patch, insignias were gone. No longer part of his body.

He hugged another man, equally as sad and happy; as I returned home- As we returned home- to our circle.

Many years later our circle may still be broken and we might be covered in more blood. Blood- which we can never wash off... B-but as I take my place and grip the hand next to mine, I laugh. We got through all this pain and suffering! And after all that we can still hold hands and be one big – almost perfect circle.

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I'm sorry it's such a weird story! I'm sorry I didn't mention any names (points if you can guess who everyone is! They were meant to be ambiguous but I tried to give hints!~) Annnnd I'm sorry it appears so choppy and rushed. I assure you I did my best... I just suck XD... And I also may have over used the dash- DDDD: And semi colon…. And ellipsis…

I hope you like it anyway!

**Edit: I went through it and changed it a bit!~ I hope it's a little more clearer and grammatically correct… ahahaha ha…. Fail.**


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